What It's Like to Hurt ALL. THE. TIME.

Lisa Kaneff may not look sick, but her chronic pain affects nearly every aspect of her life.

Seven years ago, freelance writer Lisa Kaneff, 33, was diagnosed with Morton's neuroma in her right foot. The nerve condition makes her feel as if she's constantly stepping on broken glass. Two surgeries have yielded little relief, forcing Lisa to micromanage nearly every hour of her day.

Lisa is one of 100 million Americans—up to 70 percent of them women—living with chronic pain. Her condition belongs to a group of on-the-rise "hidden diseases," ailments without obvious visible symptoms or easily diagnosable medical markers. The numbers are staggering, especially among the most common afflictions: Eight out of 10 people (again, mostly women) will suffer chronic back pain in their lives, nearly 20 percent of young women now have chronic migraines, and, this year alone, about 5 million adults will be diagnosed with fibromyalgia, a painful musculoskeletal illness that's seven times more prevalent in women than men. Also affecting hundreds of thousands are chronic fatigue syndrome, neuropathy (a.k.a. nerve damage), and autoimmune disorders like rheumatoid arthritis and lupus.

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Here's what a day in the life of someone with chronic pain looks like:

7:30 a.m.
I can't just get up, get dressed, and run out the door. If I'm in agony, I ice for 15 minutes, then do an awkward dance in the shower, trying not to put pressure on my right side.

8:30 a.m.
Cute shoes never fit my orthotics. I have to base every outfit around ugly shoes, which only reminds me of my illness. In my bag, I pack a pair of super-comfy sneakers, a surgical shoe, and lots of ibuprofen.

11:30 a.m.
I've become good at giving presentations while sitting down. I hope clients see me as casual and relatable--not meek or lazy.

1 p.m.
Before a work lunch, I have to ask: How far is the walk? Will we be seated right away? Internally, I'm giving myself a pep talk: You can do this, you can do this. If I'm already in a lot of pain, I'll excuse myself to the ladies' room to rub my foot and take an ibuprofen.

3 p.m.
Back at work, I cancel or rearrange plans. I'm not afraid to lie: I'll beg to relocate a happy hour, saying I'm craving nachos; really, I need the spot's on-site parking.

7 p.m.
Sometimes when I'm out, it's hard to focus on anything other than the sharp aches in my foot. If I'm about to go on a date and the pain is awful, I'll make a last-minute decision to put on my surgical shoe. This way it'll be obvious that I can't barhop or walk around.

9 p.m.
Rest, hope, repeat. If the pain is really bad, it can prevent me from sleeping, which means it will be even worse tomorrow. I desperately hope to conk out soon.

For more information on chronic pain, including how to get the right diagnosis and how to lend support to a friend in pain, check out the December 2014 issue of Women's Health, on newsstands now.

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